Greta hears that little gasp, and she can imagine the apologies that would be spilling out of Saoirse if she could voice them. This isn't what she wanted, either. "No, no," she says, hastily brushing her tears away with the heel of one hand and reaching for Saoirse with the other. "I'm not--you haven't upset me, it's just..." she lets out a helpless huff of laughter, knowing what a hard sell that must be when there are still tears spilling down her cheeks. She needs to pull herself together so she can reassure the poor girl properly.

"Here," she says, leaning against the cabinets, shifting a little so the handles aren't digging into her back, then holding out her arms in invitation. "Come here, sweetheart," she coaxes, managing a sheepish, tired smile.